


Smoke On The water

by sinfuldesire_archivist



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Season/Series 03
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-11-22
Updated: 2008-11-21
Packaged: 2018-09-03 15:55:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8719822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinfuldesire_archivist/pseuds/sinfuldesire_archivist
Summary: Dean finally shows Sam a side of himself that his brother has never seen.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the Sinful Desire archivists: this story was originally archived at [Sinful-Desire.org](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Sinful_Desire). To preserve the archive, we began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2016. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Sinful Desire collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sinfuldesire/profile).
> 
>  **Author's notes:** This is my first fanfic story ever. It was written just after Jus in Bello and I finally got the courage to post it so please let me know what you think.

Smoke on the Water

 

 

 

He awoke slowly, somewhat disoriented. There was always that moment of "Where am I?" So many places, cities and towns without names. He never bothered to try and remember after they were behind him; they were all the same place. This one a small town, that one a big city, others falling somewhere in between. Always the same motel. True there were certain nuances that distinguished one place from another. Different colour carpet, but always worn with years of careless use, riddled with cigarette burns and patched with spots of cheap alcohol and blood. Sam always found himself staring at the blemishes on the carpet. They were abusive reminders of days past. Of love and violence that left their mark, stains that were left to rot in their own neglect. Different cheap wallpaper that was always at least ten years out of style and peeling slowly in spots as to try and put an end to it's own misery. Different patterns, different themes, but always the same. Just a forgotten space in the middle of nowhere that was paid for, used and then left and forgotten like a cheap whore. Sam blinked through his drowsy stupor, staring with a bit of surprise at his current surroundings until the memories of his recent past returned.

 

 

They were in Montana. A small cabin resort nestled between the deep mountain woods and a small glacial lake. The place was deserted at a time when it should have been filled with joyous sounds. The sounds of children playing and men joking while setting their lures, telling the inevitable story of the big one that got away. The general sounds of families desperate to make the most of their time together before the bump and grind of everyday life was forced back on them out of necessity. 

 

It was late fall. The owner had closed early for the year following a string of brutal attacks. The headlines were bad, the truth was so much worse. Truth that no one, except for the two brothers and the resort owner would ever know. It was over now, they had seen to that. Sam smiled and hitched a little laugh. In the process of tracking down the evil that had scourged the woods they had almost been killed by a grizzly that came at them from out of nowhere. A fucking bear! Jesus, out of all the times they had come so close to death, all the things they had hunted that would drive most people over the edge........a fucking bear. Sam marvelled in retrospect at his brother’s reflexes. Fast. Cold. Precise. A pang of fear crossed his mind for just a second. What if....-.He let the thought go, it didn't go that way. And as luck would have it, the papers were blaming the attacks on the bear. The owner Carl, a short balding man with a round face and warm blue eyes, was so thrilled that he had given them the keys to one of his cabins, telling them to stay as long as they wanted. When Sam had asked where to send the keys when they left, Carl had told him to keep them. “I wouldn't have this place any more if it weren't for you two. Any time you are passing through the place is yours. It's the least I can do." With that he drove away, leaving them alone.

 

Rubbing the last remnants of sleep from his eyes, Sam surveyed his surroundings. Carefully milled logs comprised the walls of the structure. The ceiling peaked upward, held in place by large wood beams that crisscrossed the top of the room. The fireplace was now cold, filled only with the ashes of the previous night’s inferno. The rustic furnishings and gently loved hardwood floors, Sam noted the lack of burns and stains as his eyes swept over the red and slightly worn rugs at the side of the bed, were exactly what you would expect for such a setting. The place oozed warmth. Right down to the hand knitted throw that lay loosely across the back of a worn brown leather chair. But Sam did not feel warm or cozy. He knew it had nothing to do with the room, despite the late fall chill. No what made him feel a chill was what the room lacked. Dean.

 

He stared down at the crumpled place that was filled with his brother the night before. His eyes moved up to the tiny spot on the pillow that was left by Dean’s mouth. Sam smiled; he was always teasing Dean about drooling in his sleep. The look in his brother’s eyes every time he brought that up, God Sam loved it. He knew what that look was. It was the look of vulnerability. Of something Dean could not control. Dean loved control, had to have it at all times. It was if it were born in him, somehow intertwined in his very being; encoded down to his very D.N.A. instead of a conditioned behaviour. Dean hated to be vulnerable. Sam loved to see it.

 

Tossing the covers aside Sam got out of bed and went to the window. The Impala was parked in front just where Dean had left it. Sam's gaze wandered upward toward the lake where he spied his brother near the edge of the small dock that led out onto the water. It looked like the original structure. Next to it was a larger ramp leading to a small boathouse. The building looked newer than the platform Dean currently stood on, the wood more vibrant with colour. It was no doubt filled with small metal fishing boats and canoes. There was a sign that read FOR RENT in large blue letters with red outline for emphasis. Business was apparently good for Carl. Well until recently. But it would pick up again in the spring Sam had no doubt. People remembered vicious murders. They didn't care enough to remember anything as mundane as an animal attack. Sam inwardly winced at his cynicism.

 

Dean was leaning on the edge of the tiny floating wharf. He was slightly hunched forward, elbows resting on the edge of the wooden railing. His hands clasped together in front of him. It was a beautiful pose. The necklace that he always wore dangled in front of him, caught in the breeze. Dean didn't move. He just leaned there, staring out at nothing in particular and everything all at once. Dean always noticed everything, took it in a single glance never missing any detail, or at least the details that he felt were important. It was the hunter in him. Always prepared. Always ready.

 

Sam pulled himself away from the scene out the window. He walked around the room, collecting his clothes, and took two steps toward the bathroom before he decided to skip his usual morning shower. He dressed quickly throwing on his jeans and old blue t-shirt with unusual haste. What Sam had seen through the window was beautiful, but not characteristic of the man in the scene. Long still moments of thought and reflection were a well nurtured part of Sam's life, but he rarely remembered seeing this behaviour in his brother. He couldn't help but think that it was brought on by the events of the night before. Not that he believed that Dean regretted any of it. Dean never did anything he didn't want to. But when it came to Sam......The thought trailed off as Sam left the room to join his brother. Remnants of previous evening filling his head.

 

 

*****************************************************************************

 

 

..............."please" it was soft, almost a whisper. It said it all.........................................

 

 

...............to give myself to you like you give yourself to me." Dean’s voice shook in a way that was unfamiliar to both of them. His body shook as well. Lean and muscular, scars old and new riddled his golden skin. “I...." The word choked in his throat. He opened his mouth to try again, but before he made a sound Sam’s lips were on his mouth kissing his words away. Dean was never good at expressing how he felt through words. Sam knew this. He would let Dean tell him whatever he needed to say the way he knew best. Sam would let Dean show him. Dean withdrew from the passionate hard pressure of his brothers lips. For a moment he just froze, motionless. After seconds? Minutes? Hours? Dean locked his gaze on Sam's dark eyes, then gently cupped his face. He lowered himself slowly. Ever so slowly, onto his lovers lips. It was almost chaste. His kiss was gentle and exploratory, as he rubbed the bottom of Sam's chin slowly with him right thumb. Dean had never kissed Sam like this. So tender, so unsure. It was usually forceful, passionate and hard, just like Dean himself. Completely in control. But this......a whimper filled the silence of the room. The only sound to be heard besides the crackle and pop of the fire. Sam didn't know which one of them had made the noise. It didn't matter..............................................

 

 

................the smell that was Dean. It was sweet and warm. Oh God that smell! Sam's mind whirled as he kissed down the back of his brother’s neck, shifting slightly to move down to that special spot. That spot where Dean's neck met his shoulders, that little dip just above his collarbone. Dean leaned back with a whimper resting the back of his head against Sam’s strong shoulder, giving Sam better access. He nibbled and sucked just the way he knew Dean liked. Biting down hard, then releasing just as quickly to gently kiss the mark that he had made. Oh how his smell was intoxicating. Dean's scent made him feel safe. As Sam's tongue traced across Dean's shoulder, over his neck memories flooded through him. Memories of when he was young. When he was still scared of things that couldn't hurt him. Of thunder and bad dreams that didn't come true. Dean was always there. He would hold him. Not like Sam was holding his brother now. No it was a protective embrace. Dean never said anything, never had to. He just held him. 

..Nibble, bite, kiss, lick...Sam had never known a home, not in the accepted sense of the word. But he knew all the same. He found it in the familiar scent of his older brother. Returning to the matter at hand, Sam inhaled deeply the essence of Dean. The faint smell of gunpowder, cleaning oil and sweat. Speed stick mixed with the slight perfumed odour of cheap soap. His strong musk mixed with a sweet spicy aroma reminiscent of nutmeg. And the smell of sex..................................................................................

 

 

................the fear in Deans eyes. Not fear of him, Sam knew Dean could never fear him. Fear of himself. Fear of letting go of what he had held onto so long. Fear of what Sam would think of him. Fear of the unknown part of himself that he had never dared let himself explore. But there was also something else in those beautiful jade eyes. Trust. Absolute unwavering trust. They stared right through Sam asking, almost begging. Begging for love, begging to be needed, begging for help. Dean’s eyes told Sam everything he needed to know.......................................................

 

 

................ "Oh God Sam" Dean moaned, uncharacteristically soft. Almost innocent...................

 

 

..............."Are you sure Dean"......................................

 

............................."Yes".............................................

 

 

...............so many thoughts. Sam's head felt like it was going to explode. Full of everything and nothing all at once. Looking down at the shape below him he knew this was right. Not many would agree but he did not care. They had committed all manner of sins in their line of work. They had broken every commandment before they were even old enough to shave. The sin they were committing now was apparently not fit to print. I guess "though shalt not fuck your brother" didn't have the kind of ring to it that was appropriate to be posted on church walls and living rooms around the globe. Neither of them cared. Fuck it; they were probably going to hell anyway. Fuck it. Exactly.................. 

 

 

............." Sam...".............................................................

 

 

............."Oh god, now, I need you NOW."...............................................

 

 

............"Fuckinghellgoddamnitohgodsogood"....................................

 

 

.............The-

 

 

**************************************************************

 

 

A cold and forceful wind blew, jerking Sam from him thoughts. He stopped. He was somewhat surprised to find himself almost at the waters edge. He stood on a bald patch of ground that was worn from years of footsteps, only steps away from the dock. He was so wrapt up in his own thoughts that he had absolutely no memory of how he got here. Sam started to take a step forward. Then he looked up and froze again. There was Dean. Still in the exact same position as when he had looked through the window. He had not moved at all. It never ceased to amaze Sam how he would be struck like this. He never expected it when it hit. For a brief moment he would be locked in place, held there, by the mere sight of his brother. No wonder woman threw themselves at him. Fucking sluts. Dean exuded strength, power, and control. He had the air of a predator that knew it could not be challenged. He radiated confidence, authority and danger. Sam knew just how dangerous this man who stood before him could be. This man who had protected him all his life. Nurtured him. Who had changed his diapers, taught him to ride a bike, to pick a lock, hot wire a car, how to fight and win. The man who had beat him senseless when he had caught him smoking behind Bobby’s old barn. Who had then held back his hair as he vomited from the after effects of all the cigarettes he had made him smoke. The man whose name had been the first word he had ever spoken. He knew it would probably be his last word too.

 

All this happened so quickly that most people would never even have noticed the hesitation in his step. Dean always noticed.

 

Sam stepped onto the dock and felt a brief sense of vertigo from the change from solid ground to a moving surface. He took in his surroundings. It was beautiful here, peaceful. Not the type of environment he was used to. He drank it in. The sheer quiet of it save the gentle slooshing sound coming from under his feet. His eyes wandered to the mountains just past the lake, the caps white with snow and glittering in the sun. The sun had reached a point high above the mountains taking him aback for what seemed like the millionth time that day. Had he slept so long? How long had Dean been out here standing just like he is now? Quite a while according to the red that had seeped into his cheeks, visible even through his thick stubble.

 

Sam had reached Dean and propped himself in a similar position next to him before his brother moved. He turned his head to Sam, head tilting slightly back and up in patented Dean Winchester fashion. Surprisingly it was Dean who broke the silence." Brought me some breakfast? Or shall I say lunch?" Looking down at the two beer bottles in Sam’s hand. Sam had forgotten about them. Or more accurately he never remembered even grabbing them. Two faint "tsst" noises filled the air as Sam twisted off the caps, handing one to his older brother. They both drank in silence for a moment.

 

A sudden gust of cold wind hit them. Sam watched as his brother’s coat was momentarily blown open, revealing the loaded weapon at his side. Typical Dean, always prepared. He probably had a small backup pistol strapped around his right leg, just above his boot. And no doubt a knife stashed around his other, both concealed expertly under the loose fitting legs of his jeans. Dean always carried a weapon. Sam thought that the only time Dean ever truly felt naked was when he was not armed. Once they had attended a wedding of a long time friend of their fathers. It was many years ago. Sam was still in high school. Dean would have graduated that year if he had ever gone to school. It was a beautiful ceremony and reception. Church, limo, caterers in formal wear, live band, the whole package. They were standing in the corner before the ceremony began, trying to avoid mingling and senseless chatter. Dean was pulling at his tie, complaining that he looked ridiculous in this "monkey suit" that Dad had insisted that he wear. As Dean squirmed Sam had caught sight of a tiny bulge at Dean’s side. It was ever so slight. Sam had barely noticed it with his expertly trained eyes.

 

"Dude, I can't believe you brought a gun to a wedding." Sam chastised in a low whisper." It's broad daylight on a Sunday and we are in a church. It's not like there is much of a chance of getting attacked by something Dean."

 

Dean turned to face him. His expression was relaxed but it did not extend to his eyes. His eyes were hard and cold. It was the look he always gave his little brother when he wanted him to listen to an important lesson. "Only losers take chances Sam. Winners come prepared. And with the kind of things we play with, we lose people die. And I won't prepare for that." Dean held his brothers eyes for a long moment to drive the point home. Then Dean casually walked away to check out a table that held delectable pastries and all manner of sweet confections. Sam had never questioned him about the subject again.

 

"Beer for breakfast Sammy. I never knew you were capable of being so indulgent."

 

"Like you said, more like lunch really" Sammy. He remembered a time when he hated being called that. Now he found it endearing.

 

"Oh that explains it.” Dean took another long pull of his beer and waited as if expecting and explanation. Another gust of wind blew across them in their silence rippling Deans collar that he always wore up against his neck. Wind was such a strange thing. It was never really there . You couldn't see it. You couldn't grab or hold on to it. The wind would always be in limbo, there and yet not. It would come and unleash its variable degrees of fury and then just as quickly it would be gone. Leaving you to wonder if it was actually a tangible thing. Wind. Sam thought that it seemed almost alive. It was not unlike some of the things they had hunted. After several minutes when it was apparent that Sam was not going to respond, Dean looked back at his brother, stifled a small burp and said “You smell like sex." He took another sip of beer.

 

Holy shit. 

 

Sam almost choked on the liquid in his throat. They had been together many times, but never spoke of it. Not during the day. The statement was so casual and matter of fact. He stared at Dean, mouth gaping like an idiot. His jaw opened, then closed. Opened again. He was fidgeting like a high school loser at his first dance who had just asked a pretty girl to dance and been ridiculed. He knew he looked like a total fool, but he truly didn't know what to do or say. He opted for the less retarded approach and just snapped his mouth shut. He couldn't take his eyes off Dean.

 

Dean shifted position, turning his body so that he stood directly in front of his little brother. Well not so little any more. He was taller than him by a good four inches, but that didn't change how Dean thought of him. Dean felt, well he didn't really know how he felt. Was it just an innocent indulgence of oversleeping? Or was Sam delaying seeing him on purpose? Did he not shower on purpose as well, wanting to rub it into Dean's face? He must have known that his lack of bathing would be noticed. Of course not, his brother would never be so intentionally cruel to him. This was Sam. Sweet gooey eyed emotional Sam. He would never hurt Dean like that. But still... Dean's own insecurities played through his mind. "Look dude, sleeping till noon? Beer for breakfast? And on top of that you don't even take a shower? Any more surprises and I'm gonna start chanting Latin." Sam knew he was being sarcastic; the identical tattoos on their chests left no room for doubt. Besides, Dean's Latin sucked.

 

"You're hilarious" Sam retorted lamely.

 

"I'm just sayin Sammy, What the fuck?"

 

Sam's mind raced. What could he say to that? He had no idea of where his brother was leading. He was acting odd this morning, or afternoon. Strangely aloof. Not the kind of anger driven remoteness that Dean always suffered after a failed hunt when someone had been hurt, or worse. No, this was something entirely different. Was Dean angry with him? Did he resent him? But the question lingered. It was so blatantly simple. Or so it was meant to seem. Those three little words could open a whole lot of cans of a whole lot of worms. What the fuck. .......Sam was rarely lost for words, a fact that Dean reminded him of constantly. But for the second time in just about as many minutes, Sam Winchester did not know what to say. 

 

"We are supposed to be relaxing aren't we? Cut me some slack". Lame. Sam knew just how pathetic it sounded when Dean just stared at him, slowly grinning from ear to ear. That stupid mischievous cocky grin. He had endured too many of his older brothers torments to not know what was coming next. He could hear phantom voices in his head. "What's wrong Sammy, don't like that? Then make me stop, go ahead pussy, try and make me. Awwwwwww what's the matter little Sammy Winchester gonna cry?" There were a million more versions of where that came from.

 

"Admit it, you like to be dirty don't you" Dean had no idea why he said it.

 

"You're an ass." Sam replied, more harshly than he had intended. He knew exactly what Dean was doing, even if he didn't. He was being in control. Convincing himself he still HAD control after giving it up so fully to Sam the night before. 

 

"You like my ass don't you? Admit it Sammy, you LOVE my ass." Where the fuck am I going with this he wondered.

 

"What the hell dude! Are you twelve?" Sam knew they were treading in dangerous waters right now. One wrong move and Dean would close off. Jesus Christ. Even after all the years, all they had been through Sam still found it hard to believe how easily Dean could get him riled up when he wanted to.

 

Sam's retort only seemed to fuel Dean's need for control. He could see it in his eyes. "You love my stink on you don't you." My God Dean what the fuck is wrong with you! said an inner voice.

 

Sam shot him a look. Head slightly cocked, jaw jutting forward. His lips were slightly open and his brow was deeply furrowed. The look that Sam usually reserved for Dean whenever he said something incredibly stupid at exactly the wrong moment. "What the fuck....just stop it Dean." Careful he reminded himself, one wrong move. Damnit! Why did Dean feel the need to exert such control? Why did Sam feel so damned insecure, like this was all his fault? Fuck, he didn't even know what "this" was. The thought pressed him past the irritation he felt from Dean's stupid teasing. Why was Dean acting like this?

 

Dean could see that Sam was getting irritated. No scratch that, Sam was getting pissed. He didn't blame him. He had to be wondering what he was doing, hell Dean wondered that himself. Every ounce of common sense told Dean to stop before this got way out of hand. He didn't stop." You want to feel dirty don't you Sammy"

 

Sam just stared at his brother shaking his head slightly. Damn, that taunting tone! What the hell had he done to deserve this? Nothing that's what, nothing. Damn Dean and his stupid ego.

 

Even as he thought this a deep part of Sam knew that wasn't true. As strong and resilient as Dean seemed to be, Sam knew there was a self doubting child somewhere inside his brother. He had spent his entire life trying to please their father. No matter how well Dean did something, he was always told he could do better. John Winchester had meant no harm. He had only wanted his sons to be prepared, to be ready for what he knew was out there. The thought of losing either of his children consumed him. His misguided attempt at preparing his son for the cruel life that he knew lay ahead had turned him into a perfect soldier. But a broken man. He never thought he was good enough, fast enough, smart enough. Years of being drilled to do better had eventually eaten away his self worth. Dean did not have anyone to encourage him. To say "that was awesome man", even when he knew his aim was just a little off. Dean never had that reassuring feel of being picked up when he fell. Never had the experience of being told "it is ok to fall once in a while, it just makes you stronger when you get back up" while someone strong and protective lovingly wiped away his tears. Dean had never had someone to hold him as he cried in the middle of the night. Still, Sam was angry; these things were not the first things he thought of as he stared down his brother. He just prayed Dean would stop or...

 

Dean continued. “Come on, say it" He reached over and tussled Sam’s hair the way he used to when they were kids. God knows why, he knew it would infuriate his brother like it always did. “I want to hear you-"

 

"FUCK YOU DEAN!" Wrong move.

 

Whatever it was that Dean was about to say was lost to him. Driven away by the sheer venom in Sam's voice. He physically recoiled from his brother. He had known it would make Sam angry. He still didn't know why he had done it. But this wasn't the response he had been expecting. Wasn't Sam just supposed to push him away? To vent a few choice words, arms flailing, and then go into a long and tedious monologue about how it made him feel. Isn't that what Dean wanted? To know how Sam feels. Well now he knew. 

 

FUCK!! Sam regretted his words even as he spoke them. He watched Dean's face turn to a pitiful expression of genuine hurt. He could only recall maybe five times in his entire life that he had seen his brother so unguarded. It pained Sam to look, but he couldn't look away. "Look Dean I'm sorry, I...”

 

"Forget it." Dean looked away; jaw set in that all too familiar posture. "You're right, I'm an ass." He threw the beer bottle in the water and turned around and walked away. Sam could hear the door slam between them. 

 

Dean walked away with ferocity and determination. The thing was he had no idea where he was going. They were literally in the middle of buttfuck nowhere and after the incident with the bear there was no way in hell he was going to walk alone in the woods, loaded pistol or not. Especially when his mind couldn't focus. That left nowhere but the cabin and Dean sighed. The determination in with which he had departed left his step. He knew Sam had had every right to say what he had. He also knew that he would try to apologise again for it anyway. What the fuck was wrong with him? How did he manage to be such a royal prick without even trying? He thought to himself, and not for the first time "Why the hell does Sam even want to be around me?"

 

Sam.

 

His brother. His responsibility.

 

His Sammy. His saviour.

 

His lover. God, was that fucked up ten ways to hell and back.

 

What would he have ever done if he had never had Sam? How could he ever live without his Sam? The thought stopped him cold.

 

After an entire morning of agonising questioning and self doubt he finally understood why he had done the things that he had the night before. 

 

The night before...

 

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

The night before...

 

Whenever they returned from a hunt they were both always on edge. The pain and violence still too close to let go of. Dean was especially tense. What they had been after had turned out to be a particularly nasty piece of work. It had ended up being much more difficult to dispatch the evil son of a bitch than they had originally thought. As it turned out this wasn’t just your run of the mill slash and kill nasty monster. No, this was your run of the mill slash and kill nasty monster that was possessed by a lower lever demon. Two for the price of one. Hoo-fucking-ray. 

 

Dean was glad for the use of the cabin. It gave them some desperately needed downtime. Ever since the hell's gate had opened there had been barely a moment to rest. Resting made his mind wander. He didn't like to think too much. That was Sam's job. Dean looked up from the comfortable red, green and brown plaid sofa that held a pile of their clean laundry that he was currently folding. Well Dean's idea of folding. He didn't so much fold them as such. He would bend the item evenly in half and then roll it up like a poster into a tight little tube. 

 

The cabin was nice, far better than the surroundings that they were used to. It had a large fireplace in the main living area that held the couch and a noticeably unmatching large orange tweed chair. It should have been ugly, but the chair seemed to fit in the room, like an animal that is so ugly it is cute. There was a small round oak table that sat several feet in front of the couch and chair, serving as a beverage holder for both pieces of furniture. Or a foot stool in Dean's case. Behind the two main pieces of furniture next to the door was a tall thin long legged table that was scattered with multiple pamphlets reading things like "Discover Montana!" and "Hikers Guide to Safety". The only source of light in the tiny living room, other than the fireplace when it was lit, was a standing lamp with a noticeably tacky beaded lamp shade. The shade was the kind with little crystal shaped beads hanging from the edge. Its colour was somewhere in between the shade of the orange chair and the odd hue that the three colours in the plaid pattern seemed to make when they mixed. God that is one ugly lamp Dean thought to himself. But it seemed to fit the room perfectly like all the little pieces of brick-a-brack that were neatly placed throughout the cabin. The main source of light came from the little kitchen that joined the living room. It was the same room really, just separated by furniture. This was where Sam sat at a butcher block style table surround by four wooden chairs. Two of the chairs were currently moved to the corner to make more room in the small space. On top of one of the chairs was a neatly folded hand crocheted table cloth. Sam had placed it there because the textured surface was leaving little dimples on the underside of his wrists as he tried to type. After a quick survey of the room, Dean's eyes stopped on his brother. Sam didn't notice. He was clicking away at his laptop keyboard, staring intently at the screen.

 

"Whatcha doin Sammy." Dean knew exactly what he was doing. When he was not absorbed in research for a case Sam was consumed in finding something that would help Dean out of his deal. It irritated him at times how he would sit there all day just beating down on the keyboard, lost in the computer screen. But Dean loved him for it. What actually irritated him were the pangs of guilt that he would inevitably feel when he thought about leaving Sam alone. Sam would save him. Or he wouldn't. Dean just loved him for trying, that was all that mattered. A cold chill passed down his spine as he thought about where he might be this time next year. He shook it away. It was worth it. He knew this every time he looked at his younger brother. Even just one more day with Sam would have been worth the price.

 

"Just going over some last details you know." Liar. "Making sure that this thing is really gone for good." Sam would not look at his brother as he said it. He just kept pressing away at the keys under his fingers.

 

"Good thinking Sam, I knew I kept you around for some reason." He smiled weakly.

 

The tension in the air was still thick. Every time they went after something they both knew it could be the last time. Their bodies were sore and tired, but their minds fought to stick to consciousness. To savour every breath they were given the chance to take, for one more day at least. Who the fuck knew what would happen tomorrow. All they had was now.

 

"Aaaaaaaagh!" The sound rumbled up from Sam's throat as he slammed his laptop closed. He covered his face with his hands; absently rubbing his eyes and the brushing his fingers back through his wavy dark hair. "I am beat"

 

"I hear you there" Dean responded."All I wanna do is crawl in bed and sleep forever. Fucking demons."

 

Sam always felt a little uncomfortable when Dean mentioned demons like that. Wasn't there a bit of something inside him too? Was there a small part of Dean that felt that way about him? No way. Sam pushed the idea away. Besides he had more important matters on his mind. He knew Dean was full of shit about just going to sleep. He could see the tension in the set of his older brother’s shoulders. The fiery look in his eyes that screamed for release. Even if he couldn't, he definitely knew what was on Dean's mind.

 

Earlier in the evening Sam was sitting at the table starting to nibble at the end of his sandwich until he noticed how hungry he was and started eating more intently. Dean joined him across the table, putting down his own plate and rubbing his hands together with a stupid smile knowing how much he was going to enjoy the ridiculously overstuffed and condiment smeared slices of bread. 

 

'That isn't a sandwich' Sam thought to himself. It is the leaning tower of food. 

 

Dean picked up the hearty meal with both hands, squishing it down as he lifted to try and make it fit in his gaping mouth. Just as he was about to bite down he looked across at his brother who was staring at him wide eyed with a mouthful of food. He paused; Sam just sat there looking at him. "Dude. What?"

 

"Enough onions on it for you?" It came out muffled.

 

"What's wrong with onions? I love onions."

 

"Nothing." Sam began to chew his food again and waited for just the right moment when Dean was about to take a bite and added "If you like sleeping on the couch."

 

Dean picked the onions out of his sandwich. Sam smiled inwardly. Dean loved onions. He loved Sam more.

 

 

****

 

 

The one upper room in the cabin was filled with heat. Not all of it came from the fireplace. They both had taken quick showers to "get the dust off". That's what they always said. They both knew the real reason. Sam had showered first. It probably would have made more sense for them to shower together, but they only ever did that after. Sam almost always showered first. Even when they were both covered in demon guts and all manners of supernatural goo, Dean would let Sam shower first. He told himself that it was because he wanted to shower last. Then he would be able to shower as long as he wanted without feeling pressed. Truth was he just couldn't say no to Sam. He knew Sam knew this too and he manipulated him from time to time. But only on minor issues like what to get for dinner or who got the couch. Never anything major. Not that Sam couldn't get his way with that too, but he never tried. Unless it concerned his brother’s safety, Dean would let him have anything.

 

When Dean stepped out of the small bathroom connected to their room Sam was sitting in front of the fireplace that was now raging with the fire that Sam had started. Legs extended and crossed in front of him, leaning back on his arms. Both his face and his posture screamed come get me. He looked up at his brother. Wow. He was truly a sight. He was just so...well hot. Dean just stood there beads of water slowly dripping down from his hair. Sam's attention was focusing on a single bead of water that had started its journey just behind his brothers left ear. The small drop raced down his neck darting slightly this way and that on its way down. It dropped to the middle of Dean's chest choosing a perfect path down the middle of his pecs. Down, down, down it went. Until the tiny moving pool was slowed slightly by the ripple of his abs. God Dean had nice abs. Nice didn't even begin to describe Dean's abs. Up down, up down the drop went. Sam stared with fierce focus as the bead of water crested the last fleshy speed bump and disappeared; absorbed into the towel around his waist. Fucking incredible. Dean stood there the entire time, completely unaware of the plight of the ill fated drop of water. Head tilted down and to the right he was vigorously shaking his finger in his right ear, trying to get the water out. He hated water in his ears and there were no Q-Tips.

 

Sam was also wearing only a towel. God he wanted Dean. He just wanted to get up and grab him, put his hands and his mouth everywhere. But he would wait. Wait for Dean to come to him as he always did. He couldn't believe his brothers patience. As he watched him walk toward him he let a slow smile creep over his face. When he was almost in front of him he felt his arms start to push himself up from the floor to meet him. He walked right by. Sam just sat there, silly smile still on his face. He waited a moment, but Dean did not come up behind him. He turned to see his brother pull down the patchwork quilt and blue flannel sheets, remove his towel and crawled into bed. Nice. Real nice. Sam stood up. He could feel the heat of the fire on the back of his legs as he stood there at the foot of the bed staring at the shape that was now under the sheets beating his pillow into submission to fit the shape of his head. As Dean scooted down farther under the covers he glanced up at his tall lean brother. "What."

 

Sam didn't say anything. He let out a gasp of air in disbelief and shook his head. He just stared at Dean.

 

Dean rolled onto his side and nuzzled his head into his now submissive pillow.

 

Unbelievable. 

 

Sam's jaw set firmly and he stood up and stomped over to the other end of the room. He grabbed a well worn backpack off the floor and roughly threw it down on the leather chair in the corner. He was careful to make as much noise as possible to let his brother know exactly how he felt. Let Dean be a prick. Damned if he was going to sleep on the couch. He roughly opened the bag and pulled out a pair of pajama bottoms and a t-shirt. He threw them on in an over animated and noisy fashion, thinking to himself that it was a bit warm in here for flannel pjs. Whatever. 

 

When he turned around Dean was right there. 

 

Dean grabbed him and threw him up against the wall. Instantly his lips were on Sam's pushing hard down on his mouth, tongue probing and forceful. 'There it is' Sam thought as he returned his brothers fevered kiss.

 

Dean's moves were hard, urgent, needy. He had almost lost Sam today. He needed to feel him. Taste him. Have him. His hands travelled up to that wonderful mop of hair. It was still damp from the shower and he ran his fingers through it. He stopped his hands in mid motion, gripping fistfuls of hair. He yanked roughly, pulling Sam's head back, exposing more of that beautiful throat. Dean's mouth was on it in an instant, sucking the fleshy spot below his Adams apple. "You like that don't you Sammy. You like it when I'm rough with you." His voice was deep and sultry. Filled with lust for the perfect creature that stood before him. 

 

His younger brother only groaned lightly. Oh yeah. He liked it when Dean was rough. Good thing, because Dean was always rough.

 

"Tell me, tell me you like it." He needed to hear Sam say it. His left hand was still planted firmly in a patch of hair, holding Sam's head back. His right hand started to slide down the side of his partner’s neck. He moved his mouth to the opposite side. When Sam did not answer Dean bit down hard.

 

Sam sucked in air through his teeth as Dean bit down, making a loud hissing sound. "Yes." he said through bared teeth.

 

Dean took his mouth off his lover’s neck and stared at him intently. His hand was still slowly roaming down, enjoying the feel of the hot skin through the shirt. He was rock hard. "Yes what." he demanded.

 

"I like it when you're rough." Sam quickly answered to avoid another assault from Dean's teeth. Not that he didn't like it. He knew Dean would be pleased by the promptness of his answer. His words came out breathless and meek. 

 

Dean smiled and released Sam's hair. He then grabbed his brother and threw him on the bed. It was easy to forget how strong Dean was. Although this same situation had been played out a hundred times, the strength of his brother always surprised him. And turned him on something fierce.

 

Sam quickly adjusted his position on the bed. In an instant Dean was on top of him. Straddling him. He grabbed the collar of Sam's shirt on each side of where the seam met in the middle, forming a perfect v. He pulled and the old worn fabric gave way easily. It split clean from the middle of the v down to just two inches from the bottom. One more small tug and the shirt came loose in his hands. He pushed the torn pieces aside. Dean put his hands on Sam's chest and started tracing the edges of every protruding muscle. His eyes burned at the sight of him. God Sam was beautiful. Perfect to the last detail. The younger of the two shuttered at his touch as hard calloused hands rubbed against the soft spot on his belly. Dean's eyes greedily took in everything that was in front of him. He just sat there, hands roaming like a blind man trying to read a map. He remembered photos of famous art that Sam had shown him. The statue of David, the Creation of Man, and other great works that he never cared to remember titles of flowed through his mind. Those were supposed to be beautiful? No wonder he had no appreciation for "art". Those artists had obviously had never seen his brother. Now that was art. He cocked his head to one side just a hair. "Awesome" he muttered. Sam didn't know if Dean had meant to say it out loud or not. Either way, he loved how it sounded.

 

Dean pounced. He grabbed Sam's wrists and had them over his head before Sam even registered that he had moved. Damn he was fast. Sam just looked up at the man who was on top of him, waiting. His face was maybe half an inch from his own, his breath hot on his face smelling faintly of mint toothpaste. "What do you want me to do to you Sammy." It came out more like a statement than a question. There was no response, just longing look in those dark eyes. "I said what do you want me to do to you." There was authority in that voice. Silence. Dean slightly loosened his grip and withdrew his head a few inches. He stared at Sam, brow furrowed. This isn't how it usually went. Sam opened his mouth ever so slightly. Then he closed it and broke away from Dean's eyes, staring weakly down at his own chest. 

 

Oh.

 

In that instant Dean knew exactly what Sam wanted.

 

Awkward.

 

They had been lovers for quite some time. The funny thing is that Dean could not exactly remember when this odd twist in their relationship had started. Oh he remembered the first time they had actually crossed that line. He could never forget that. No, how it had started. For the life of him he could not recall who had taken the first step, or even what that first step had been. It had been this way for so long that it seemed like it was always this way. Dean groaned inwardly. 

 

It was always this way.

 

Always Dean had absolute control. He decided how, he decided where. Hell, he even decided when. Sam always waited for Dean to make the first move. He had never instigated sex. Oh, he knew damn well how to get it when he wanted, but he had never physically made the first move... Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!... Sam always gave himself over to Dean. Fully and completely. He was always the one to receive Dean's affections and give whatever gratification he felt Dean needed. Oh God his inner voice moaned. Thinking back on their numerous encounters Dean realised that not once had Sam ever been inside him. Sure, he had slipped in a finger or two in gentle teasing as he was sucking on him, but... the thought was lost. Dean stared at his brother who would still not look up at him... You selfish bastard!... Sam had also come close to losing his brother today. It was the first time Dean thought about it like that. He was so consumed by the thought of how he had almost lost Sam... To reiterate: Selfish bastard... Even though Sam was feeling the same fear and pain, probably more considering the situation with the deal, he was still willing to set aside his needs to please him... You selfish bastard! Hey, third times the charm right? Want to try again, double or nothing!... Sam had always,--that word again, always-- given all of himself to Dean. Dean had given all of himself to Sam --wait for it!-- never. That's right, never!... Congratulations! You win the coveted asshole of the Year award! Would you like to risk it all and go for Asshole of a Lifetime!?

 

No, He did not.

 

Fuck.

 

Fuck, God damnit, Jesus Christ, Shit.

 

Dean released Sam's arms. He slowly sat up, back hunched, and shoulders drooping echoing his shame. Sam still would not look at him. Feeling Dean's loss of arousal Sam started to say "Look, Dean I-"

 

"Don't you dare apologise Sam. Don't you dare." There was not much force behind his words. His brother finally looked up at him. He tried to speak again, but Dean covered his lips with his fingers. He held them there for a moment until he knew that Sam was not going to try and apologise again. That would be too much, Sam apologising for him being an asshole. He curled in his fingers and twisted his wrist slightly, letting his thumb gently caress his brother’s lips. Sam still stared up at him, obviously confused and a little insecure. God, Dean couldn't look at him any longer. Sam deserved so much more. Dean pushed himself off his better half, turned around and sat limply on the end of the bed in between Sam's long legs, shoulders hunched, head hanging low.

 

"Dean?" No answer.

 

Dean could hear Sam starting to sit up. He knew he would try and make him feel better. Typical. He wished he could just leave so he wouldn't have to hear Sam's kind words. But that would be selfish too, so he just sat there.

 

"What's wrong? Did I-"

 

"No."

 

"Then what?" Dean only shook his head.

 

"Dean look at me." He didn't move. Sam waited another minute and then added "Please."

 

As he listened to his brothers words Dean's heart ached so badly he thought he could actually die. But he could not deny him a simple look. Not after he had already denied him so much. He could not bring himself to completely face him. 

 

 

Coward. 

 

Dean shifted slightly and twisted his neck as far around as it would go to look at Sam over his shoulder. His eyes were wet and sullen. He saw his lover sitting on the bed hair sticking up wildly, still wearing an old once white shirt around his shoulders. The front of the shirt was gone. The ragged pieces of cloth that covered his chest moments before limply rested at his sides, holding on to the sleeves for dear life. In pretty much any other situation the scene would have struck Dean as funny, but all it did now was remind him how he had abused his brother, just as he had abused his shirt. A single tear rolled down his cheek. He could not bear to look at him any longer and once again turned away.

 

Although his heart went out for him, Sam was glad to finally see Dean like this. Not because he wanted to see him suffer, but because he knew how much hurt his older brother carried around inside him. He stuffed it away under lock and key and just left it there. Left it to fester. Eventually, his little emotional prison would get too full, bursting open and letting out years of infected old wounds. This happened from time to time. Normally it manifested itself into anger. Dean was not great at controlling his temper. It was easier for him to get angry than to actually face the years of neglected pain. For Sam to see his brother like this hurt like hell, but it also gave him hope. He scooted forward until his chest was pressed against his partners back. Hot flesh on flesh. He wrapped his arms around his lifelong companion, silently telling him that the pressures of their life were not his burden alone to bare. He rested his chin on those strong shoulders. As he did Dean half whispered "please". They stayed like this for a very long time.

 

After what seemed like forever, Dean spoke. "I don't know how." is all he said. Sam waited patiently to see if he would continue. 

 

When he didn't continue Sam asked gently "You don't know how to what Dean?" He lifted his chin and started to stroke the older man's arm as he said it. A loud pop briefly filled the room from an escaping pocket of gas inside one of the logs in the fireplace. Sam couldn't help paralleling the situation in the room to what was going on in the fire. Sam stayed where he was for several minutes longer. It was obvious that Dean needed a little encouragement to continue. He got up off the bed. After removing the remnants of his shirt he kneeled before him on the floor staring slightly up at him instead of down as he usually did. "I love you Dean."

 

"I know." He gulped. "That is why I..." Sam knew how difficult this was for his emotionally reclusive older brother. "..I want to give myself to you like you give yourself to me." Dean recognized the vulnerability in his own voice. He wanted to crush it, draw it back into himself where it would be safe. He would not allow himself to do that. He owed Sam that much. Owed him everything. He gulped down hard again and tried to force himself to continue. He fought the evil spawn of hell almost every day, yet he was frozen with fear at the thought of saying a few words. When he finally worked up the courage to open his mouth he found his brothers lips there, kissing him passionately, reassuringly. What had he ever done to deserve the selfless love that his partner so willingly gave him? He felt himself getting lost in those hot persuasive lips. NO. He needed to show Sam just how much he loved him. To give to him the one thing that he had never given anyone.

 

His surrender.

 

Dean gently broke their embrace. He moved his hands up to Sam's face where he let them rest, lovingly stroking his smooth coloured cheeks. He fought the urge to attack. Instead he hesitantly lowered himself to his lover’s lips, letting himself explore them. He found himself marveling at the shape and feel and taste of the wet hot skin as if he had never felt it before. In a strange way he hadn't. Not like this. He would have been content to die right then. Dean heard a faint whimper, unsure if it had come from his own throat. His body was electrified, shaking with conflicting emotions. His need to give himself over to this man before him. The need to feel safe and in control. The need of his aching body that cried out for release. He felt himself grow increasingly harder with every pass over those sweet lips.

 

When their lips finally separated Dean stayed motionless for just a moment. Eyes still closed, one hand still resting on his brothers face, burning the details of what had just happened forever into his memory. He opened his eyes and started to slowly pull himself up the bed. He never took his eyes off Sam. When he reached a spot in the middle that would allow him to lay his upper body down so that his head would fall on the pillow he stopped. Slowly he rolled over. He gently lowered himself down until his chest was on the mattress. He laid his head down and placed his hands beside his head on the pillow. His breath was ragged and fast despite the lack of physical movement. He closed his eyes and listened to himself breathe, feeling his heart racing in his chest. His mind filled with fear and anticipation.

 

Sam blinked in disbelief as he stared wide eyed at Dean. That was the single most incredibly erotic thing he had ever seen in his entire life. He found himself squeezing firmly at his swollen head to prevent himself from coming right there. His eyes lazily wandered down his partners back. Over his strong shoulders down to the trail in the middle that was formed by his spine. It rose and fell erratically in sync with the heavy breathing that filled the room. My God! His eyes drank it in like they were dying of thirst. He let his gaze slowly fall over the golden scarred surface covered with fine blonde hairs that now stood up on end. Down until his eyes locked on the fleshy mound of Dean's ass. This was the most submissive pose he had ever seen Dean take. Until right that moment he didn't even think that his brother was capable of such a gesture. Sam groaned audibly. His heart filling with love and his body filling with desire.

 

Sam quickly removed his pajamas and crawled on to the bed to join his brother. He knew that Dean was doing this all for him. He was acutely aware of the anxiety in his partner. He was on fire with lust, his groin ached and his heart beat hard against his ribcage. He could not remember a time when he had ever been so excited. Half of this was due to the thought of what was about to happen, the other half was the knowledge that Dean loved him so much that he was willing to let him do it. Sam moved up the bed and straddled that beautiful ass. He leaned forward, lowering himself until his chest was resting on hot flesh, and started kissing his shoulders and neck. Oh God, the smell of him! It was intoxicating. Sam inhaled, taking in that amazing smell as he kissed and licked his brother’s neck and shoulders. He made his way up the neck and locked his lips around the fleshy nub at the bottom of Dean's ear. He sucked tenderly for a moment and then whispered “Relax." He slowly dismounted and grabbed Dean's shoulders, gently urging onto his back. His brother was tense and resisted briefly before giving in. He rolled over, eyes still closed, chest heaving. Sam looked down at him. He didn't know how it was possible for someone to look so incredibly sexy and yet so innocent at the same time. 

 

"You don't have to do this Dean" 

 

“I know." He opened his eyes.

 

As Sam looked into those amazing green circles he saw trust mixed with fear and self doubt. He knew he would never see his brother look so vulnerable when his clothes were on. Dean was always the strong one. The pillar that Sam had leaned on all his life. There had never been anyone else. Sure there had been their father, but his presence grew increasingly absent as they grew older, sometimes leaving them alone for weeks at a time. They never had any long term friends due to the frequency of moving from one town to the next. The two men had learned early on that the only people they could count on to be there for them were each other. This fact went deep in explaining their strange intimate relationship.

 

Sam gabbed something from the nightstand and gave Dean an amorous smile. Slowly he started kissing down that lean strong chest, around the bronze amulet and down to the lovely trail of hair that led to his lover’s now hard length. He traced around the inside of his quivering thigh with his tongue. Sam licked gently on the underside of Dean's sack. 

 

“Oh God Sam..."

 

He withdrew his tongue and gently blew where it had been, smiling as he watched the fleshy orbs begin to pucker and churn in response to his breath. Sam moved on to the other thigh. He licked and kissed slowly upward, reveling in the moaning sounds from his partner. He pushed himself up slightly and took Dean's cock in his mouth.

 

"Holy shit!" came a breathless voice from above him.

 

Sam loved that taste. Pre-cum mixed with sweat. Holding himself up with his left hand Sam reached out with his right, grabbing the item he had removed from the nightstand. With one hand he held the tube and flicked up with his thumb. The cap popped open with sharp click. He squeezed a generous amount onto the tips of his fingers, rubbing them together to warm the clear jelly. He moved his lubricated fingers in between the legs underneath him, down to the opening in the center. He felt Dean tense and let his fingers trace small circles around the sensitive pucker while he kept slowly sucking on his brother’s long shaft. After a moment he felt the form below him relax. His finger moved forward, penetrating that forbidden place, prompting a quick intake of breath from his nervous lover. Sam gently pushed in, feeling strong hands grab his hair. My God his cock ached! He wanted so badly to touch himself, but he held back. The wait would be worth it.

 

Slowly in and out his hand moved, head bobbing up and down.

 

"More." he heard in a whispered voice.

 

Needing no further encouragement he inserted another finger in the tight space. His ears were filled with gasps and moans as the body beneath him writhed in pleasure. His hand moved faster, fingers scissoring slightly back and forth to stretch the muscles. He felt hands gripping wildly at his head, pulling his hair, grabbing his shoulders. The sounds that filled the room grew in volume and Dean bucked his hips upward, driving his hard cock further into his brother’s mouth while at the same time pushing down on his fingers. The tips of Sam’s long fingers brushed up against the sensitive bundle of nerves inside his partner.

 

“Holy fuck!"

 

Sam almost jumped at the intensity of Dean's words. He was so hot and so hard, wanting nothing more than to be inside that wonderful ass. He had no idea how he didn’t cream himself at the mere thought of it.

 

“Oh God now, I need you NOW!" Dean demanded through clenched teeth.

 

Pulling his fingers from the now primed hole, Sam reached over and squeezed more lube onto his hand, this time bringing it down on his own swollen head, generously coating his huge cock. He removed his mouth from the long hard rod with a popping noise. His eyes fell on Dean's face relishing the look of vulnerability and lust that he saw there. Never averting his gaze he slowly pushed himself up while at the same time pushing his lovers legs up and farther apart. He rested the tip of his throbbing head up against his partner’s entrance. "Are you sure Dean?" His breath was ragged and his heart raced.

 

"Yes." It came out choked and quiet, but Sam heard the truth in it.

 

Oh God this is actually happening! The thought consumed Sam as he slowly pushed his hips forward, eliciting a loud and sharp intake of breath.

 

Dean's mind raced as a sharp pain stabbed through his body, he winced and fought the instinct to push Sam away. He had never felt such an utter helplessness as he submitted himself to his brother's control. The feeling was new and frightening, yet at the same time it made him feel needed and complete. Gradually, the pain subsided, giving way to a warm pleasurable feeling. It grew in intensity as he felt the hardness push further inside him, slowly, oh so slowly, until he had swallowed all of him.

 

Sam concentrated fiercely to push away the explosion that he felt irrupting to the surface. He held still, giving his partner time to adjust to his size and to drive away his need for release. Fuck did it feel good! He had never felt anything like it in his life. The sensation of tightness and heat made his head dizzy. All the times he imagined how this would be didn't even come close to the pleasure that ripped through him right now. 

 

"Move...........please." It wasn't a command as Sam was used to, but a gentle plea.

 

The words snapped Sam back to reality and he pulled his hips back, overcome with the sensation. Dean's hands were on his chest, fingers clenching, leaving little half moon imprints from his nails.

 

"Sammy" The word came out almost like a question. Dean didn't recognize his own voice as he spoke . Sam was inside of him, taking him as he had taken Sam so many times before. He never knew it could feel so wonderful. The feeling was indescribable. Completeness, surrender, fear, love, passion, need and a hint of shame, pain and humiliation all felt simultaneously. Is this how he made Sam feel? He hoped so.

 

Sam reached down to his brother’s stiffness. He cupped his hands over the enlarged head, rubbing the warm fluid that was leaking from the tip over his palm. He grabbed the hot shaft and started pumping vigorously. A deep throaty growl rumbled up from the panting form below him.

 

"You like that. You like my cock inside you"

 

"Yes"

 

"Yes What"

 

"I like your cock inside me" A part of Dean couldn't believe that he was saying it. There was a time when he thought he would rather die than let someone have such absolute control of him. 

 

"Fuck me harder Sammy!" 

 

His surrender was complete.

 

"Oh God Dean, I can't..........I'm...I'm gonna......"

 

"Come inside me...I want you to come inside me." Something about hearing himself say it drove Dean over the edge. His body shuttered and tensed. His head grew dizzy and his vision blurred as he felt his own hot juice falling in patches across his stomach. He rocked with the most intense orgasm he had ever had while his brother slammed hard into him.

 

Sam lost control at the sight. His own body stiffening. His mind filled with everything and yet nothing. Nothing had ever felt so right. "Fuckinghellgoddamnitohgodsogood.." Sam came in harsh waves, feeling Dean's muscles tensing around him as he pumped his load into his ass. He collapsed on his partner, breathless and spent. Perfect.

 

They just laid there, Sam's head resting on Dean's shoulder, not moving until the quickness of their breath eased. Sam looked down at his brother and leaned forward in a passionate kiss. Lips pursed together, tongues darting in and out they spoke to each other silently, saying things that words could never capture. Sam rose from his beloved, smiling.

 

"I love you so much Sammy."

 

“I know." He leaned forward and tenderly kissed his forehead.

 

This time it was Sam who broke the embrace. Aware of the crusting pools that covered them he reached to the floor and grabbed the rag that used to be his shirt. He wiped off his own chest and then reached down to wipe off his brother. He threw the stained cloth back on the floor. As he turned to rise from bed he felt Dean's hand gently running down the long pink scar on his back. He closed his eyes for a moment, saddened as the reality of their complicated lives flooded back to him. Dean had saved him. He would save his brother.

 

As Sam began to rise from the bed to start the shower he felt Dean's hand on his shoulder. “No, don't go." Dean pleaded. His voice sounded like a frightened child. Sam lay back down on the bed and to his surprise his brothers head fell down on his chest, arm wrapped around his waist. He would shower tomorrow; right now he just wanted to stay here holding the man who meant everything to him. He ran his fingers lovingly through short blonde hairs and was lulled to sleep by the rhythmic breathing of the sleeping form on his chest.

 

 

****************************************************************************

 

 

Dean came back to reality with long fingers snapping in front of his face. "Dean." He was startled to see Sam standing right in front of him. 

 

When he saw that he had his brother's attention, Sam continued. "Come on dude, no more bullshit. What the hell is going on with you?"

 

"Nothing." Sam's face tightened in an expression that was equal parts anger disbelief and confusion. Dean just looked at him. Sam's mouth was slightly open, lips curled up on one side. His brow was deeply creased and his nose crinkled upward with his lip. The thought occurred to Dean that Sam looked like someone was holding a small piece of shit under his nose. He couldn't help himself. He burst out laughing.

 

"Dean, what..." Sam's hands went up and out in front of him in frustration, head shaking. The sentence was completed by a sharp exhale, hands falling in resignation to his sides. Dean was impossible.

 

Stifling his laughter Dean looked at his brother, wide grin still on his face.

 

"Bitch"

 

Sam couldn't help returning his smile.

 

"Jerk"

 

They stared at each other smiling. The moment was finally broken by the loud cawing of a crow that had perched on a branch of a tree near the cabin.

 

"Well Sammy, I think we should take some time to attend to some long neglected house cleaning." He turned without giving an explanation, walking towards the car, fiddling in his pocket until he finally removed the keys. He opened the trunk and started pulling out assorted guns and knives, stuffing them in a large worn army green duffle. The objects that were too big to fit in the bag were stuffed under his arms. When he had reached his maximum load capacity Dean began to walk toward the cabin, trunk left open. Sam let out a small laugh and walked toward the trunk, eventually grabbing his own load and heading to join his brother.

 

 

*********

 

 

Sam sat on the floor while Dean occupied one of the chairs at the table. The floor and table were covered with weapons in various states of disassembly. The strong smell of cleaning solution and solvent filled the room. The silence was only broken by the rhythmic rasping noise of a knife against a sharpening stone. Both men focused intently on their tasks, knowing that the state of their tools could mean the difference between life and death. Sam's attention was broken by a movement out of the corner of his eye. He saw two small colourful birds fluttering around a birdfeeder that hung just outside one of the small kitchen windows. He had no idea what kind of birds they were, but he watched as they would land, grab a mouthful of food, nibble and then flutter up eventually landing to repeat the process again. "Dean, check it out." He nodded toward the window as he said it.

 

Instantly Dean was tense, already reaching for one of the loaded weapons on the table. "What is it?" His voice was monotone. In that one second he had fully switched over to hunting mode.

 

Dean looked around the room, seeing nothing. He looked at his brother who nodded toward the window. Finally seeing what his brother was referring to he uncocked the pistol and rested it gently back on the table. He looked at Sam. "You are so gay."

 

"Look who's talking." A brief look of insecurity flashed across Dean's face. Sam felt suddenly nervous that the whole stupid charade that had played out this morning was about to start again. He needn't have worried. The look faded as quickly as it appeared, slowly being replaced by a mischievous smile.

 

As if answering that "what now" look on Sam's face, Dean grinned wider and said. “No Sam you are right, they are really pretty. I know, we should keep them as pets. We can give them cute little names and you can teach them to sit on your finger and sing".

 

"Funny." Sam retorted as he expertly scraped the knife across the wet stone.

 

"No really Sam. Hmm what should we name them?" He leaned his head to one side as if in deep thought.

 

Sam believed that Dean kept a mental list of incredibly stupid things that he had to say at least once before he died. Dean's face broke into a huge grin, letting Sam know that he should brace for something he was sure was going to be incredibly dumb...

 

“I got it. We can call them Mr. Pillowpants and Listerfiend." Dean kept smiling that ridiculous grin. Nodding his head in appreciation of himself.

 

God Dean could be such a dork. Sam had no idea what the names meant, but he was sure that Dean did and he was very proud of himself at coming up with them. Sam thought he could hear Dean's inner voice saying to himself “Mr. Pillowpants, check. Listerfiend, check." He imagined his brothers voice mentally scratching it off his checklist. One less retarded thing left unsaid.

 

"You are a moron." Sam stated matter of factly.

 

Dean was unphased. "Who is more foolish, the fool or the fool who follows him?" Dean smiled like the Cheshire cat, incredibly proud of his wit. He just sat there smiling looking at Sam, slightly bobbing his head up and down. 

 

What an idiot Sam thought with a smile while shaking his head. But it was nice to see Dean acting like himself again.

 

They were interrupted by the slightly synthesized sound of the first rifts of Smoke on the Water. Dean reached over and answered his phone.

 

"Yeah."

 

"Oh hey Bobby."

 

"How many?"

 

"Where?"

 

"About four and a half hours."

 

"Yeah." Dean flipped the phone closed and looked at Sam. "Well Dr. Spengler, better start cleaning up, we got a gig."

 

"Dr. Spengler?"

 

"You know." Dean replied, "Ghostbusters."

 

"I’ve seen the movie Dean."

 

"Right, he was the tall dorky guy who was always spewing out stupid facts." Dean looked at Sam, daring him to argue with his logic.

 

"Yeah dude whatever." They started re-assembling and packing away their arsenal.

 

 

As the Impala lurched forward and gravel sprayed from the back tires Sam turned his head to get one final look at the cabin. He hoped they would come back, but he doubted they ever would. With a sigh he looked forward and opened his computer that sat on his lap. "What did Bobby say it was called?"

 

"A Rakoshi. R-a-k-o-s-h-i." Sam typed the word into his computer as Dean drove.

 

As Sam recited the information that he had found to his brother a thought crossed his mind, and not for the first time; Our lives are fucking weird.


End file.
